I am not a sports person. I don’t play any sports, nor do I watch any sports on television. The exception to that is the Olympics. In watching individual athletes compete, I see them falter at the starting block, fall off the balance beam, foul on a crucial play. Each time they are told to “shake it off”. Well that is what I am learning to do – shake it off.
It is not that I am faltering or falling down or missing any crucial plays. I just get frustrated at living with Mom. I have no time for me. My down time, is exercising at the YMCA. And I hate exercising. My body revs up, endorphins pump through me, heart rate rises, breathing becomes heavy and my throat is parched. Yet, this is my personal time to let my mind wind down. This is the only time I can slow down all my thoughts as they bump into one another. My time for brain renewal. It is a juxtaposition of my body and my mind that leaves me somewhere between physically tired and emotionally numb. Neither result is satisfactory.
Somehow I have to learn how to “shake it off:”. Shake it off when Mom accuses me of rearranging all the dishes in the cupboard. Shake it off when I tell her I have to pick up one more item for dinner and then find her cooking something entirely different and yucky when I return home. Shake it off when Mom vehemently denies throwing my clothes in the dryer, knowing that my favorite pants will now look like flood pants and my shirts are now mid-drifts. Shake it off when I discover that she has driven the car to the liquor store to buy two bottles of wine. Shake it off when I tell her that she can not drive or drink alcohol and she spits back at me that she is now a prisoner in her own house. Shake it off when I feel like the warden.
I am not good at shaking it off. I haven’t had years of working with a personal trainer advising how to do this. There is no learning curve for this one. I have to acquire this skill, this stress reducing tactic, this new strategy, overnight. I am a quick study on many things, but this is not one of them.
I am good at exposing my feelings through writing. You, the reader, will have to suffer through my cathartic moments. This is when you get to see me, warts and all. I am not the loving daughter who patiently, saintly, deals with all that life throws at me. Hell no. Instead you get glimpses of my vulnerable self, who has pity-parties from time to time. This is my way of shaking it off. That and tears. One good thing about being Irish is that the tears flow easily.
Tears and prayers cleanse my spirit. I am no stranger to asking the Holy Spirit to walk with me on this journey, for I can not do it alone. Despite prayers, there are times when it still feels like a lonely stroll.
Tomorrow is a doc appointment. I am dreading it because it will be one more confrontation when Mom will be told unequivocally that she can not drive and can not drink. It is a tearing off of the bandage, one more time. I hate it. So I have prayed for God to send a legion of angels to soften the blow that Mom will feel. Oh Lord, give me the patience and the right words to help her get through tomorrow.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Sparkling Crystal
I have been traveling all week. As always my mind drifts back to 1019, wondering how Mom and Dad are faring without me. Wow, that sounds like they are totally lost without my guiding hand. Or maybe it is a controlling hand. Or maybe it is a caring heart that is all too familiar with the daily pitfalls, hiding in the corners of their routine. I best knock myself off the saint-pedestal before I ask for Papal sanctification.
On Tuesday, my girls were treated to dinner at their favorite restaurant. The pitfalls that lie in wait of every restaurant outing is alcohol. I have never spoke of Mom’s taste for wine. At home, she starts with one glass and then continues to pour ½ a glass of wine until it is all gone. At a restaurant she continually orders one glass after another. Dad, on the other hand, has a penchant for martini’s when dining out. He finally, finally, finally realized that it is all alcohol and at his age, combined with his zillion meds, he can no longer handle an 8 ounce glass of pure alcohol. So he switched to gin and tonics. He stops at one and then switches to wine.
Grandparents and granddaughters were off to a night of who knows what. I sat in my hotel room Tuesday evening, watching the clock, wondering how it was going. It is very difficult for my girls to limit my folks. They love their mémère and pépère, but don’t feel comfortable taking the glasses out of their hands. I don’t expect them to be the alcohol-police.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I texted Adrienne and asked how everything was going. She called ten minutes later to tell me that it was a great dinner. Yea! Thank you God! Mom had only a half glass of wine. Dad didn’t even finish is g&t and took only a few sips of his wine. Adrienne said they chatted about Emily’s upcoming trip to Europe, Adrienne’s school activities with Dad, of course, filling in the gaps with stories.
I am so thrilled that they had a great time. I am so proud of my girls. And I am happy that Mom and Dad had a chance to make a special memory with their beloved granddaughters. They have eight other grandchildren, who are all loved. But since I am writing this piece, I can claim my girls as their beloveds.
Through the daily confusion and repetitive questions, this memory is a piece of fine cut crystal, sparkling so brightly, it illuminates the dark moments.
Peace,
JaneEllen
On Tuesday, my girls were treated to dinner at their favorite restaurant. The pitfalls that lie in wait of every restaurant outing is alcohol. I have never spoke of Mom’s taste for wine. At home, she starts with one glass and then continues to pour ½ a glass of wine until it is all gone. At a restaurant she continually orders one glass after another. Dad, on the other hand, has a penchant for martini’s when dining out. He finally, finally, finally realized that it is all alcohol and at his age, combined with his zillion meds, he can no longer handle an 8 ounce glass of pure alcohol. So he switched to gin and tonics. He stops at one and then switches to wine.
Grandparents and granddaughters were off to a night of who knows what. I sat in my hotel room Tuesday evening, watching the clock, wondering how it was going. It is very difficult for my girls to limit my folks. They love their mémère and pépère, but don’t feel comfortable taking the glasses out of their hands. I don’t expect them to be the alcohol-police.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I texted Adrienne and asked how everything was going. She called ten minutes later to tell me that it was a great dinner. Yea! Thank you God! Mom had only a half glass of wine. Dad didn’t even finish is g&t and took only a few sips of his wine. Adrienne said they chatted about Emily’s upcoming trip to Europe, Adrienne’s school activities with Dad, of course, filling in the gaps with stories.
I am so thrilled that they had a great time. I am so proud of my girls. And I am happy that Mom and Dad had a chance to make a special memory with their beloved granddaughters. They have eight other grandchildren, who are all loved. But since I am writing this piece, I can claim my girls as their beloveds.
Through the daily confusion and repetitive questions, this memory is a piece of fine cut crystal, sparkling so brightly, it illuminates the dark moments.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Mixing It Up
Mom is beginning to get a her words mixed up. For awhile she would forget names of grandkids and other people. We all do that from time to time, but self-correct. The difference is that Mom doesn’t know the difference.
Recently, I went to the doc’s with Mom and Dad. I dropped them off and went run a quick errand. They both were there for basic monitoring. By the time I was ushered back to the exam room, the doc was asking Mom how she was doing. Mom gave the usual answer, “Fine”. He looked right at me and asked how things were going. I hate that! I felt like I was betraying her, I was being disloyal. My head knew I had to report accurately, but my heart hated doing it with her right there. It sucked!
I reported that her memory was not better and that she was having difficulty with organization and complex thinking. Mom just sat there with a blank stare on her face. I don’t even know if she understood what I was saying. Anyway, she was put on additional memory medicine, Nemenda. That just means that she is entering into another phase of Alzheimer’s. As if I didn’t know that already.
As I said in the beginning, she is now mixing up her words. One evening I was cooking dinner (Isn’t this ironic – I hate to cook and here I am cooking most nights – what is God thinking??? He must have a twisted sense of humor and getting a laugh out of this one; I guess I will have to ask Him that one over a cup of hot chocolate when we meet – sorry I digress).
Back to dinner….spinach was cooking on the stove. Mom takes a peek and says, “Oh the lettuce is cooking”. Another time she was looking for her ceramic bunny for our Easter basket in the front hall. I suggested that she look in the secretary. She looked in the dining room corner hutch. This scene repeated itself the next night. I wanted to see if she knew where to look. She went right to the hutch, again. I suggested she look in the secretary in the living room. Then she found the bunny. The other night I was thawing chicken in the microwave. Each time Mom went to check on the thawing, she would look in the oven, even though I said it was in the microwave. I would then redirect her to the microwave. What is weird is that she doesn’t seem to react to the redirecting. She just says, “Oh yea”. Maybe this is the silver lining. Mom doesn’t know that she is slipping down the slope a little bit at a time. Then again, I don’t know if somewhere in all of the tangled fibers of her brain, she knows she is slipping, but can’t articulate it. I pray for the former; the latter is more painful for her. And for me.
As for the new med, I figure the meds are really for the family of the one with Alzheimer’s. It helps the family feel like they are doing something to combat this disease. Not even close.
We just keep moving through our days. I am learning to truly appreciate her moments of clarity. And I pray for patience when those moments evaporate like sunbeams slicing through the morning mist.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Recently, I went to the doc’s with Mom and Dad. I dropped them off and went run a quick errand. They both were there for basic monitoring. By the time I was ushered back to the exam room, the doc was asking Mom how she was doing. Mom gave the usual answer, “Fine”. He looked right at me and asked how things were going. I hate that! I felt like I was betraying her, I was being disloyal. My head knew I had to report accurately, but my heart hated doing it with her right there. It sucked!
I reported that her memory was not better and that she was having difficulty with organization and complex thinking. Mom just sat there with a blank stare on her face. I don’t even know if she understood what I was saying. Anyway, she was put on additional memory medicine, Nemenda. That just means that she is entering into another phase of Alzheimer’s. As if I didn’t know that already.
As I said in the beginning, she is now mixing up her words. One evening I was cooking dinner (Isn’t this ironic – I hate to cook and here I am cooking most nights – what is God thinking??? He must have a twisted sense of humor and getting a laugh out of this one; I guess I will have to ask Him that one over a cup of hot chocolate when we meet – sorry I digress).
Back to dinner….spinach was cooking on the stove. Mom takes a peek and says, “Oh the lettuce is cooking”. Another time she was looking for her ceramic bunny for our Easter basket in the front hall. I suggested that she look in the secretary. She looked in the dining room corner hutch. This scene repeated itself the next night. I wanted to see if she knew where to look. She went right to the hutch, again. I suggested she look in the secretary in the living room. Then she found the bunny. The other night I was thawing chicken in the microwave. Each time Mom went to check on the thawing, she would look in the oven, even though I said it was in the microwave. I would then redirect her to the microwave. What is weird is that she doesn’t seem to react to the redirecting. She just says, “Oh yea”. Maybe this is the silver lining. Mom doesn’t know that she is slipping down the slope a little bit at a time. Then again, I don’t know if somewhere in all of the tangled fibers of her brain, she knows she is slipping, but can’t articulate it. I pray for the former; the latter is more painful for her. And for me.
As for the new med, I figure the meds are really for the family of the one with Alzheimer’s. It helps the family feel like they are doing something to combat this disease. Not even close.
We just keep moving through our days. I am learning to truly appreciate her moments of clarity. And I pray for patience when those moments evaporate like sunbeams slicing through the morning mist.
Peace,
JaneEllen
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
My Twisted Humor
Whenever I am travelling and sitting up late at night in my hotel room, my thoughts drift back to home. First, my heart first is pulled in the direction of my girls. Oh how lucky I am. They are my jewels and I am blessed to have them in my life. They are my light.
Then I wonder how my parents are doing. I live with them to help them navigate through the daily activities that they use to traverse with ease. Now the smallest bend in the road can easily throw them off course. Between Mom’s memory loss and Dad’s failing eyesight, life has become a challenge. I worry about them.
There are days when you just have to laugh. Other times the internal scream goes off in my head, because Mom has asked me for the umpteenth time if I ate lunch. It is the light moments that keep my going, even those with fringed with sad reality.
Last week we got about ten inches of snow. Despite the weather, Mom had an appointment with her ear doctor. Her ears were blocked and she couldn’t hear without us shouting to her. She had to go that day or wait till the following week to see the doc. On our way, she asks me when my vacation was over. Huh???? I told her I wasn’t on vacation. She said, “Well you are always home”. I replied that I work from home (I have worked from since 2002) and that I work at my desk in the office. “Oh, did that start already?”. The way she said it made me chuckle. And it made my heart sink, a little. I know this is the course of this ugly disease, but at times it just smacks me in the head. Still, with time, it is funny – in a twisted humorous way.
I go home tomorrow and don’t know what I will find. The house will be there, but the TV won’t be “working” because neither one of them can figure out how to use the TV/cable combination. The dog will have peed on the living room rug, because they don’t walk the dog when he whines to go out and Mom forgets to close the kitchen gate. And who knows what else. Despite all of this, I miss them. They won’t always be there, so at the end of the day, I am lucky to still have them with me.
Maybe that is why God gave me the ability to see the twisted humor in this journey. It is my built-in defense against the insanity that could set in, if I let it.
JaneEllen
Then I wonder how my parents are doing. I live with them to help them navigate through the daily activities that they use to traverse with ease. Now the smallest bend in the road can easily throw them off course. Between Mom’s memory loss and Dad’s failing eyesight, life has become a challenge. I worry about them.
There are days when you just have to laugh. Other times the internal scream goes off in my head, because Mom has asked me for the umpteenth time if I ate lunch. It is the light moments that keep my going, even those with fringed with sad reality.
Last week we got about ten inches of snow. Despite the weather, Mom had an appointment with her ear doctor. Her ears were blocked and she couldn’t hear without us shouting to her. She had to go that day or wait till the following week to see the doc. On our way, she asks me when my vacation was over. Huh???? I told her I wasn’t on vacation. She said, “Well you are always home”. I replied that I work from home (I have worked from since 2002) and that I work at my desk in the office. “Oh, did that start already?”. The way she said it made me chuckle. And it made my heart sink, a little. I know this is the course of this ugly disease, but at times it just smacks me in the head. Still, with time, it is funny – in a twisted humorous way.
I go home tomorrow and don’t know what I will find. The house will be there, but the TV won’t be “working” because neither one of them can figure out how to use the TV/cable combination. The dog will have peed on the living room rug, because they don’t walk the dog when he whines to go out and Mom forgets to close the kitchen gate. And who knows what else. Despite all of this, I miss them. They won’t always be there, so at the end of the day, I am lucky to still have them with me.
Maybe that is why God gave me the ability to see the twisted humor in this journey. It is my built-in defense against the insanity that could set in, if I let it.
JaneEllen
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Ramblings or Ravings of a Daughter - You Decide
I haven’t written anything in a while for several reasons: too busy – holidays and all that, work/travel, setting up my own clinical practice, getting my house ready to sell – Mike has been doing the lion’s share of that, for which I am forever in his debt and forever guilty.
Now for the real reason for this lack of writing – I just wasn’t putting myself into it. I was playing it safe by just documenting observations and lightly touching on what is going on behind the scenes – i.e. my heart ramblings. I have been told that my writing is compelling. Well this has certainly not hit that mark, up to now.
My defense wall has been up and it is fairly thick. Trying to look at myself more truthfully is tough. Exposing myself to the nether world of internet blogging scares the shit out of me.
Oh yea, I have a tendency to let curse words fly out of my mouth, brain, fingers, etc…. so beware. I don’t do it for shock value or to offend anyone. I just express myself in colorful ways, at times. I will try to hold back on the f-bomb, as I know that really is offensive for some folks. Personally, I find that word covers so many grammatical functions, that I have a hard time not letting loose with it whenever it pops into my head. Luckily for me, I have a strong f-bomb filter in place, so you will be spared – I hope.
Back to the defenses…
My silence has allowed me to distance myself from this blog. I look at this blog as a testimonial to Mom and life with her. I need to amend this to: testimonial of Mom and Dad. After 50+ years of marriage, it is difficult to separate one from the other. While they are not co-dependant, they certainly are intertwined with each other.
As for me…there are times when I just want to scream at them. Why can’t they figure stuff out for themselves?!?!? They use to do this. Now they just go along without really thinking through anything.
For instance, a week or so ago, I went into the backroom and couldn’t believe how cold it was. I commented and Dad said he noticed it was cold, but then again it was cold outside. This is illogical, since there is a wall unit heater that heats the room regardless of the exterior temperature. I look at the thermostat and it reads 65 degrees. What!!! I walk over to the heater and cold air is blowing out of it. Dad sits right next to it. Couldn’t he feel the cold air blowing on him???? I comment that the heater must be broken and we need to call the repairman. Mom volunteers to do this. I know, she usually gets mixed up, but it is the middle of the day and I need to get back to work. She calls and leaves a message. I know this only because I found a note that she wrote stating that she left a voicemail at 3:25pm. According to Dad, he thinks the repairman is coming at 2:30, but not sure what day. Crap! Of course I found the note at 10pm that evening – and found it accidently, too. I call the service the next morning, which is a Saturday to discover that they are only open Mon-Fri. I spend the next half hour tracking down someone who will come out first thing Mon morning. Here’s the thing: I am leaving that day to head down to Lynn’s for the Inauguration. Em and I won’t be back till Tues evening. I am trying to get the heater fixed before I come back.
And just for grins and giggles, the main TV is in the backroom, which is now functioning as a walk-in freezer. This means that Mom and Dad will watch TV in the basement or in their bedroom. Simple – right? Not quite. Due to the cable box configuration, they forget how to turn the TV on. They either turn off the cable box or the TV or switch the TV channel to one that doesn’t receive the cable signal. All of which means they get frustrated and can’t watch TV. Mike programmed the cable remote in the back room to make it easier for them, but they still get confused. The other TVs have not been programmed. It is a recipe for disaster, resulting in Dad claiming he is going to throw the remote through the TV and Mom stating that they need a new TV ‘cause the current one is always broken.
Are you following any of this? It is like a maze without a prize at the end. In fact, there is no end! It just keeps going. I guess a better metaphor is that life with them is like a pulling a loose thread on a sweater, only to realize that thread is connected to the entire sweater, which is now unraveling inch by inch. Holy Shit!
So my defenses are in place –or so I tell myself. But the truth is that this shit gets to me. I vacillate between wanting to yell at them, to trying to be patient and praying all the time. And then I feel guilty for not understanding that they are who they are – no more, no less. Well that just stinks! Getting old stinks. For those on the 95-year plan, you can have it. I have seen old age up close and personal and it sucks. You can’t remember anything. The pleasures you use to have are beyond your comprehension. In fact, everything is mostly beyond comprehension. You repeat actions/words/thoughts over and over till you can’t find your way out of your own thought process.
I do try to look at this from a different perspective. One where expectations are lowered. A world where simple pleasures give joy. A life where discussing the issues of the day don’t go much beyond the surface level. There are days when I can get into this slowed-down groove and share their space with them. Ok, let’s make that moments. For if I spent a day functioning at their level, I would never get anything done. I need to learn to leave my level behind and walk with them at their pace. This is not easy for me. I have a million things going on at once and usually can juggle everything. When I have to lay all that aside to sit with them, it is difficult for me.
There are times when this happens and I enjoy their company. I am thankful for the chance to spend time with them. I am their daughter, for that space of time. I am not their caregiver, shopper, chauffer, cook, organizer, medical consultant, advisor, etc… I relish the times when I drop all those roles off at the door and simply exist with them. It doesn’t’ happen often enough.
I have lost that part of me that could slip into daughter mode like slipping into a cool lake on a hot summer day, allowing the waters to flow over my weary body. I don’t get to do that anymore. It saddens me that I am too busy taking care of everything/everyone else that I have lost the role of the daughter. I have to fight the tears back, even as I write this. Shit! See what I mean about letting defenses down???? Once there is a crack in the wall, the floodwaters of emotions can’t be held back. Well that stinks.
I have rambled enough for now. I will try to be more open with what is really going on and not just the factual façade of observations and dry commentary of the past blogs.
Now for the real reason for this lack of writing – I just wasn’t putting myself into it. I was playing it safe by just documenting observations and lightly touching on what is going on behind the scenes – i.e. my heart ramblings. I have been told that my writing is compelling. Well this has certainly not hit that mark, up to now.
My defense wall has been up and it is fairly thick. Trying to look at myself more truthfully is tough. Exposing myself to the nether world of internet blogging scares the shit out of me.
Oh yea, I have a tendency to let curse words fly out of my mouth, brain, fingers, etc…. so beware. I don’t do it for shock value or to offend anyone. I just express myself in colorful ways, at times. I will try to hold back on the f-bomb, as I know that really is offensive for some folks. Personally, I find that word covers so many grammatical functions, that I have a hard time not letting loose with it whenever it pops into my head. Luckily for me, I have a strong f-bomb filter in place, so you will be spared – I hope.
Back to the defenses…
My silence has allowed me to distance myself from this blog. I look at this blog as a testimonial to Mom and life with her. I need to amend this to: testimonial of Mom and Dad. After 50+ years of marriage, it is difficult to separate one from the other. While they are not co-dependant, they certainly are intertwined with each other.
As for me…there are times when I just want to scream at them. Why can’t they figure stuff out for themselves?!?!? They use to do this. Now they just go along without really thinking through anything.
For instance, a week or so ago, I went into the backroom and couldn’t believe how cold it was. I commented and Dad said he noticed it was cold, but then again it was cold outside. This is illogical, since there is a wall unit heater that heats the room regardless of the exterior temperature. I look at the thermostat and it reads 65 degrees. What!!! I walk over to the heater and cold air is blowing out of it. Dad sits right next to it. Couldn’t he feel the cold air blowing on him???? I comment that the heater must be broken and we need to call the repairman. Mom volunteers to do this. I know, she usually gets mixed up, but it is the middle of the day and I need to get back to work. She calls and leaves a message. I know this only because I found a note that she wrote stating that she left a voicemail at 3:25pm. According to Dad, he thinks the repairman is coming at 2:30, but not sure what day. Crap! Of course I found the note at 10pm that evening – and found it accidently, too. I call the service the next morning, which is a Saturday to discover that they are only open Mon-Fri. I spend the next half hour tracking down someone who will come out first thing Mon morning. Here’s the thing: I am leaving that day to head down to Lynn’s for the Inauguration. Em and I won’t be back till Tues evening. I am trying to get the heater fixed before I come back.
And just for grins and giggles, the main TV is in the backroom, which is now functioning as a walk-in freezer. This means that Mom and Dad will watch TV in the basement or in their bedroom. Simple – right? Not quite. Due to the cable box configuration, they forget how to turn the TV on. They either turn off the cable box or the TV or switch the TV channel to one that doesn’t receive the cable signal. All of which means they get frustrated and can’t watch TV. Mike programmed the cable remote in the back room to make it easier for them, but they still get confused. The other TVs have not been programmed. It is a recipe for disaster, resulting in Dad claiming he is going to throw the remote through the TV and Mom stating that they need a new TV ‘cause the current one is always broken.
Are you following any of this? It is like a maze without a prize at the end. In fact, there is no end! It just keeps going. I guess a better metaphor is that life with them is like a pulling a loose thread on a sweater, only to realize that thread is connected to the entire sweater, which is now unraveling inch by inch. Holy Shit!
So my defenses are in place –or so I tell myself. But the truth is that this shit gets to me. I vacillate between wanting to yell at them, to trying to be patient and praying all the time. And then I feel guilty for not understanding that they are who they are – no more, no less. Well that just stinks! Getting old stinks. For those on the 95-year plan, you can have it. I have seen old age up close and personal and it sucks. You can’t remember anything. The pleasures you use to have are beyond your comprehension. In fact, everything is mostly beyond comprehension. You repeat actions/words/thoughts over and over till you can’t find your way out of your own thought process.
I do try to look at this from a different perspective. One where expectations are lowered. A world where simple pleasures give joy. A life where discussing the issues of the day don’t go much beyond the surface level. There are days when I can get into this slowed-down groove and share their space with them. Ok, let’s make that moments. For if I spent a day functioning at their level, I would never get anything done. I need to learn to leave my level behind and walk with them at their pace. This is not easy for me. I have a million things going on at once and usually can juggle everything. When I have to lay all that aside to sit with them, it is difficult for me.
There are times when this happens and I enjoy their company. I am thankful for the chance to spend time with them. I am their daughter, for that space of time. I am not their caregiver, shopper, chauffer, cook, organizer, medical consultant, advisor, etc… I relish the times when I drop all those roles off at the door and simply exist with them. It doesn’t’ happen often enough.
I have lost that part of me that could slip into daughter mode like slipping into a cool lake on a hot summer day, allowing the waters to flow over my weary body. I don’t get to do that anymore. It saddens me that I am too busy taking care of everything/everyone else that I have lost the role of the daughter. I have to fight the tears back, even as I write this. Shit! See what I mean about letting defenses down???? Once there is a crack in the wall, the floodwaters of emotions can’t be held back. Well that stinks.
I have rambled enough for now. I will try to be more open with what is really going on and not just the factual façade of observations and dry commentary of the past blogs.
JaneEllen
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Gems from Mom
I can tell when Mom is feeling better. Her sense of humor returns. Mom has a great wit and loves to use it whenever the opportunity arises. She also is not afraid of making a joke about herself. This past couple of weeks Mom has been in a more alert zone and less anxious, at times. And it is those times that I focus on, to get me through the not so great moments.
Two weeks ago both my girls and I, along with Mom, were in the kitchen preparing dinner. The chit-chat was light and fun. Somehow Mom got on the topic of the food bill. Food prices have sky rocketed. I do all the shopping, scouring food ads for specials, clipping and sorting coupons and making up a weekly dinner menu so I know exactly what to buy. I have honed this process down to a fine art. Feeling good about being a responsible shopper, Mom piped up and said that the food bill has gone up since I moved in. Now I take that with a large grain of salt considering that they were not eating healthy or a variety of foods prior to my arrival.
“Your mother spends so much more on food than when all the kids lived here,” stated Mom. “Well at least I’m not growing a pot plant in my room like someone else did,” I replied. Without missing a beat Mom deadpans, “If you could sell it for money that would be a help”. The girls and I howled and Mom was laughing, too! That was a great moment.
Then the other day I was grumbling about chauffeuring duties. It seems like I am always on the road for my daughter. And that is only one teenager. Mom replied, “I know – been there, done that”. As I was walking out the door I yelled back, “I don’t know how you did it with 5 kids. I would be insane!” “Well”, Mom paused, “maybe that is why I have problems today”. I laughed to myself all the way to the car. Making fun of yourself is a such a healthy sign. I relish this quick exchange of shared parenting.
You just never know if it is going to be an up or down day. You just have to wake up in the morning and pray for the best. God will take care of everything else.
And when those gems come along, making your day sparkle, you place them forever in your heart, allowing their light to shine through the dark times.
JaneEllen
Two weeks ago both my girls and I, along with Mom, were in the kitchen preparing dinner. The chit-chat was light and fun. Somehow Mom got on the topic of the food bill. Food prices have sky rocketed. I do all the shopping, scouring food ads for specials, clipping and sorting coupons and making up a weekly dinner menu so I know exactly what to buy. I have honed this process down to a fine art. Feeling good about being a responsible shopper, Mom piped up and said that the food bill has gone up since I moved in. Now I take that with a large grain of salt considering that they were not eating healthy or a variety of foods prior to my arrival.
“Your mother spends so much more on food than when all the kids lived here,” stated Mom. “Well at least I’m not growing a pot plant in my room like someone else did,” I replied. Without missing a beat Mom deadpans, “If you could sell it for money that would be a help”. The girls and I howled and Mom was laughing, too! That was a great moment.
Then the other day I was grumbling about chauffeuring duties. It seems like I am always on the road for my daughter. And that is only one teenager. Mom replied, “I know – been there, done that”. As I was walking out the door I yelled back, “I don’t know how you did it with 5 kids. I would be insane!” “Well”, Mom paused, “maybe that is why I have problems today”. I laughed to myself all the way to the car. Making fun of yourself is a such a healthy sign. I relish this quick exchange of shared parenting.
You just never know if it is going to be an up or down day. You just have to wake up in the morning and pray for the best. God will take care of everything else.
And when those gems come along, making your day sparkle, you place them forever in your heart, allowing their light to shine through the dark times.
JaneEllen
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Alzheimer's and Band-Aids
As a little girl, I would get the occasional cut. The best part of having a scrape was the band-aid. Of course the band-aids back in the day were bland compared to the colorful band-aids of today with a myriad of characters dancing across the thin strip. The worse part was when it was time to remove the band-aid. Dad had a way of taking it off quickly with one swift tug. As I got older I would try to take it off slowly, thinking that would be less painful. I was wrong. Ripping it off quickly may hurt, but the pain is over in an instant. And it is finished. Slowly peeling the band-aid prolongs the process.
Alzheimer’s is the proverbial band-aid being torn off slowly, over and over.
Mom has not been able to drive for over a year now. Her neurologist feels it is not safe for her to drive. We all agree. Except for Mom, who doesn’t understand why she can’t drive. Worse of all, she doesn’t remember this restriction on her independence.
Each time we catch her with keys in her hand we have to tell her that she is not allowed to drive. She looks incredulously at us. Defeated once again, Mom fades with each instance.
Yesterday, it happened again. She was going out. Dad asked her where she was going and she replied that she was going to buy a bottle of wine. This is a double whammy problem. Alcohol speeds up the memory loss process. So not only is she not allowed to drive, she can not drink, either.
I was working in my office and heard Mom asking why she can’t drive. Dad had to tell her that the doctor said she was not allowed to drive. He implores, “Please, Marilyn. You can not drive a car.” Taking a breath, he adds on the next blow, “And you can not drink any wine”. Her voice got louder and she was pissed, “I can so drive and I am going out!”
Sensing that Dad needed reinforcement, I pop into the kitchen t. It is so hard for him. He wants to take care of his wife, yet it pains him to not give her what she wants. This is his wife of 50+ years. He is torn. It is a no-win situation.
Standing next to Dad trying to appear as a united front, I state, “Mom, you can’t drive and you can’t drink wine. It isn’t just Dad and it isn’t just me. It’s all of us, your children and your grandchildren, who love you and want to take care of you”.
“Fine! I am a prisoner in my own home!” Mom stormed off.
It is times like this that I think of the band-aid slowly being removed, over and over. It never ends. And it hurts me to have to do this over and over. Each time it is like the first time. Each time it is a slap in the face for Mom. Each time she gets a little more upset. And the bitch of it is that there is nothing we can do about it.
I really hate this disease! I want to know why there isn’t any magic pill to treat it.
Instead, Alzheimer’s is a long and painful process where each day a new attack on Mom’s independence is waiting just around the bend.
JaneEllen
Alzheimer’s is the proverbial band-aid being torn off slowly, over and over.
Mom has not been able to drive for over a year now. Her neurologist feels it is not safe for her to drive. We all agree. Except for Mom, who doesn’t understand why she can’t drive. Worse of all, she doesn’t remember this restriction on her independence.
Each time we catch her with keys in her hand we have to tell her that she is not allowed to drive. She looks incredulously at us. Defeated once again, Mom fades with each instance.
Yesterday, it happened again. She was going out. Dad asked her where she was going and she replied that she was going to buy a bottle of wine. This is a double whammy problem. Alcohol speeds up the memory loss process. So not only is she not allowed to drive, she can not drink, either.
I was working in my office and heard Mom asking why she can’t drive. Dad had to tell her that the doctor said she was not allowed to drive. He implores, “Please, Marilyn. You can not drive a car.” Taking a breath, he adds on the next blow, “And you can not drink any wine”. Her voice got louder and she was pissed, “I can so drive and I am going out!”
Sensing that Dad needed reinforcement, I pop into the kitchen t. It is so hard for him. He wants to take care of his wife, yet it pains him to not give her what she wants. This is his wife of 50+ years. He is torn. It is a no-win situation.
Standing next to Dad trying to appear as a united front, I state, “Mom, you can’t drive and you can’t drink wine. It isn’t just Dad and it isn’t just me. It’s all of us, your children and your grandchildren, who love you and want to take care of you”.
“Fine! I am a prisoner in my own home!” Mom stormed off.
It is times like this that I think of the band-aid slowly being removed, over and over. It never ends. And it hurts me to have to do this over and over. Each time it is like the first time. Each time it is a slap in the face for Mom. Each time she gets a little more upset. And the bitch of it is that there is nothing we can do about it.
I really hate this disease! I want to know why there isn’t any magic pill to treat it.
Instead, Alzheimer’s is a long and painful process where each day a new attack on Mom’s independence is waiting just around the bend.
JaneEllen
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